The Complete Works of George MacDonald: The Princess and the Goblin, The Princess And Curdie, Lilith, Phantastes, Parables, Far Above Rubies and More (73 Books With Active Table of Contents)

The Princess and the Goblin

The Princess and Curdie

The Princess and The Goblin and The Princess and Curdie

The Princess and Curdie: By George MacDonald - Illustrated

The George MacDonald Treasury: Princess and the Goblin, Princess and Curdie, Light Princess, Phantastes, Giant's Heart, at the Back of the North Wind, Golden Key, and Lilith

At the Back of the North Wind / The Princess and the Goblin / The Princess and Curdie

needs to be told again and again before he will understand. Youhave orders enough to start with, and you will find, as you go on,and as you need to know, what you have to do. But I warn you thatperhaps it will not look the least like what you may have beenfancying I should require of you. I have one idea of you and yourwork, and you have another. I do not blame you for that - youcannot help it yet; but you must be ready to let my idea, whichsets you working, set your idea right. Be true and honest andfearless, and all shall go well with you and your work, and allwith whom your work lies, and so with your parents - and me too,Curdie,' she added after a little pause.

The young miner bowed his head low, patted the strange head thatlay at the princess's feet, and turned away. As soon as he passedthe spinning wheel, which looked, in the midst of the gloriousroom, just like any wheel you might find in a country cottage - oldand worn and dingy and dusty - the splendour of the place vanished,and he saw but the big bare room he seemed at first to haveentered, with the moon - the princess's moon no doubt - shining inat one of the windows upon the spinning wheel.

CHAPTER 9Hands

Curdie went home, pondering much, and told everything to his fatherand mother. As the old princess had said, it was now their turn tofind what they heard hard to believe. if they had not been able totrust Curdie himself, they would have refused to believe more thanthe half of what he reported, then they would have refused thathalf too, and at last would most likely for a time have disbelievedin the very existence of the princess, what evidence their ownsenses had given them notwithstanding.

For he had nothing conclusive to show in proof of what he toldthem. When he held out his hands to them, his mother said theylooked as if he had been washing them with soft soap, only they didsmell of something nicer than that, and she must allow it was morelike roses than anything else she knew. His father could not seeany difference upon his hands, but then it was night, he said, andtheir poor little lamp was not enough for his old eyes. As to thefeel of them, each of his own hands, he said, was hard and hornyenough for two, and it must be the fault of the dullness of his ownthick skin that he felt no change on Curdie's palms.

'Here, Curdie,' said his mother, 'try my hand, and see what beast'spaw lies inside it.''No, Mother,' answered Curdie, half beseeching, half indignant, 'Iwill not insult my new gift by making pretence to try it. Thatwould be mockery. There is no hand within yours but the hand of atrue woman, my mother.'

'I should like you just to take hold of my hand though,' said hismother. 'You are my son, and may know all the bad there is in me.'

Then at once Curdie took her hand in his. And when he had it, hekept it, stroking it gently with his other hand.

'Mother,' he said at length, 'your hand feels just like that of theprincess.'

'What! My horny, cracked, rheumatic old hand, with its big joints,and its short nails all worn down to the quick with hard work -like the hand of the beautiful princess! Why, my child, you willmake me fancy your fingers have grown very dull indeed, instead ofsharp and delicate, if you talk such nonsense. Mine is such anugly hand I should be ashamed to show it to any but one that lovedme. But love makes all safe - doesn't it, Curdie?'

'Well, Mother, all I can say is that I don't feel a roughness, ora crack, or a big joint, or a short nail. Your hand feels just andexactly, as near as I can recollect, and it's not more than twohours since I had it in mine - well, I will say, very like indeedto that of the old princess.'

'Go away, you flatterer,' said his mother, with a smile that showedhow she prized the love that lay beneath what she took for itshyperbole. The praise even which one cannot accept is sweet froma true mouth. 'If that is all your new gift can do, it won't makea warlock of you,' she added.

'Mother, it tells me nothing but the truth,' insisted Curdie,'however unlike the truth it may seem. it wants no gift to tellwhat anybody's outside hands are like. But by it I know yourinside hands are like the princess's.'

'And I am sure the boy speaks true,' said Peter. 'He only saysabout your hand what I have known ever so long about yourself,Joan. Curdie, your mother's foot is as pretty a foot as any lady'sin the land, and where her hand is not so pretty it comes ofkilling its beauty for you and me, my boy. And I can tell youmore, Curdie. I don't know much about ladies and gentlemen, but Iam sure your inside mother must be a lady, as her hand tells you,and I will try to say how I know it. This is how: when I forgetmyself looking at her as she goes about her work - and that happensoften as I grow older - I fancy for a moment or two that I am agentleman; and when I wake up from my little dream, it is only tofeel the more strongly that I must do everything as a gentlemanshould. I will try to tell you what I mean, Curdie. If agentleman - I mean a real gentleman, not a pretended one, of whichsort they say there are a many above ground - if a real gentlemanwere to lose all his money and come down to work in the mines toget bread for his family - do you think, Curdie, he would work likethe lazy ones? Would he try to do as little as he could for hiswages? I know the sort of the true gentleman pretty near as wellas he does himself. And my wife, that's your mother, Curdie, she'sa true lady, you may take my word for it, for it's she that makesme want to be a true gentleman. Wife, the boy is in the rightabout your hand.'

'Now, Father, let me feel yours,' said Curdie, daring a littlemore.

'No, no, my boy,' answered Peter. 'I don't want to hear anythingabout my hand or my head or my heart. I am what I am, and I hopegrowing better, and that's enough. No, you shan't feel my hand. You must go to bed, for you must start with the sun.'

It was not as if Curdie had been leaving them to go to prison, orto make a fortune, and although they were sorry enough to lose him,they were not in the least heartbroken or even troubled at hisgoing.

As the princess had said he was to go like the poor man he was,Curdie came down in the morning from his little loft dressed in hisworking clothes. His mother, who was busy getting his breakfastfor him, while his father sat reading to her out of an old book,would have had him put on his holiday garments, which, she said,would look poor enough among the fine ladies and gentlemen he wasgoing to. But Curdie said he did not know that he was going amongladies and gentlemen, and that as work was better than play, hisworkday clothes must on the whole be better than his playdayClothes; and as his father accepted the argument, his mother gavein. When he had eaten his breakfast, she took a pouch made ofgoatskin, with the long hair on it, filled it with bread andcheese, and hung it over his shoulder. Then his father gave him astick he had cut for him in the wood, and he bade them good-byerather hurriedly, for he was afraid of breaking down. As he wentout he caught up his mattock and took it with him. It had on theone side a pointed curve of strong steel for loosening the earthand the ore, and on the other a steel hammer for breaking thestones and rocks. just as he crossed the threshold the sun showedthe first segment of his disc above the horizon.

CHAPTER 10The Heath

He had to go to the bottom of the hill to get into a country hecould cross, for the mountains to the north were full ofprecipices, and it would have been losing time to go that way. Notuntil he had reached the king's house was it any use to turnnorthwards. Many a look did he raise, as he passed it, to the dovetower, and as long as it was in sight, but he saw nothing of thelady of the pigeons.

On and on he fared, and came in a few hours to a country wherethere were no mountains more - only hills, with great stretches ofdesolate heath. Here and there was a village, but that brought himlittle pleasure, for the people were rougher and worse manneredthan those in the mountains, and as he passed through, the childrencame behind and mocked him.

'There's a monkey running away from the mines!' they cried. Sometimes their parents came out and encouraged them.

'He doesn't want to find gold for the king any longer - thelazybones!' they would say. 'He'll be well taxed down here though,and he won't like that either.'

But it was little to Curdie that men who did not know what he wasabout should not approve of his proceedings. He gave them a merryanswer now and then, and held diligently on his way. When they gotso rude as nearly to make him angry, he would treat them as he usedto treat the goblins, and sing his own songs to keep out theirfoolish noises. Once a child fell as he turned to run away afterthrowing a stone at him. He picked him up, kissed him, and carriedhim to his mother. The woman had run out in terror when she sawthe strange miner about, as she thought, to take vengeance on herboy. When he put him in her arms, she blessed him, and Curdie wenton his way rejoicing.

And so the day went on, and the evening came, and in the middle ofa great desolate heath he began to feel tired, and sat down underan ancient hawthorn, through which every now and then a lone windthat seemed to come from nowhere and to go nowhither sighed andhissed. It was very old and distorted. There was not another treefor miles all around. it seemed to have lived so long, and to havebeen so torn and tossed by the tempests on that moor, that it hadat last gathered a wind of its own, which got up now and then,tumbled itself about, and lay down again.

Curdie had been so eager to get on that he had eaten nothing sincehis breakfast. But he had had plenty of water, for Many littlestreams had crossed his path. He now opened the wallet his motherhad given him, and began to eat his supper. The sun was setting. A few clouds had gathered about the west, but there was not asingle cloud anywhere else to be seen.

Now Curdie did not know that this was a part of the country veryhard to get through. Nobody lived there, though many had tried tobuild in it. Some died very soon. Some rushed out of it. Thosewho stayed longest went raving mad, and died a terrible death. Such as walked straight on, and did not spend a night there, gotthrough well and were nothing the worse. But those who slept evena single night in it were sure to meet with something they couldnever forget, and which often left a mark everybody could read. And that old hawthorn Might have been enough for a warning - itlooked so like a human being dried up and distorted with age andsuffering, with cares instead of loves, and things instead ofthoughts. Both it and the heath around it, which stretched on allsides as far as he could see, were so withered that it wasimpossible to say whether they were alive or not.

And while Curdie ate there came a change. Clouds had gathered overhis head, and seemed drifting about in every direction, as if not'shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind,' but hunted in alldirections by wolfish flaws across the plains of the sky. The sunwas going down in a storm of lurid crimson, and out of the westcame a wind that felt red and hot the one moment, and cold and palethe other. And very strangely it sang in the dreary old hawthorntree, and very cheerily it blew about Curdie, now making him creepclose up to the tree for shelter from its shivery cold, now fanhimself with his cap, it was so sultry and stifling. It seemed tocome from the deathbed of the sun, dying in fever and ague.

And as he gazed at the sun, now on the verge of the horizon, verylarge and very red and very dull - for though the clouds had brokenaway a dusty fog was spread all over the disc - Curdie sawsomething strange appear against it, moving about like a fly overits burning face. This looked as if it were coming out of thesun's furnace heart, and was a living creature of some kind surely;but its shape was very uncertain, because the dazzle of the lightall around melted the outlines.

It was growing larger, it must be approaching! It grew so rapidlythat by the time the sun was half down its head reached the top ofthe arch, and presently nothing but its legs were to be seen,crossing and recrossing the face of the vanishing disc.

When the sun was down he could see nothing of it more, but in amoment he heard its feet galloping over the dry crackling heather,and seeming to come straight for him. He stood up, lifted hispickaxes and threw the hammer end over his shoulder: he was goingto have a fight for his life! And now it appeared again, vague,yet very awful, in the dim twilight the sun had left behind. Butjust before it reached him, down from its four long legs it droppedflat on the ground, and came crawling towards him, wagging a hugetail as it came.

CHAPTER 11Lina

IT was Lina. All at once Curdie recognized her - the frightfulcreature he had seen at the princess's. He dropped his pickaxesand held out his hand. She crept nearer and nearer, and laid herchin in his palm, and he patted her ugly head. Then she crept awaybehind the tree, and lay down, panting hard.Curdie did not much like the idea of her being behind him. Horrible as she was to look at, she seemed to his mind morehorrible when he was not looking at her. But he remembered thechild's hand, and never thought of driving her away. Now and thenhe gave a glance behind him, and there she lay flat, with her eyesclosed and her terrible teeth gleaming between her two hugeforepaws.

After his supper and his long day's journey it was no wonder Curdieshould now be sleepy. Since the sun set the air had been warm andpleasant. He lay down under the tree, closed his eyes, and thoughtto sleep. He found himself mistaken, however. But although hecould not sleep, he was yet aware of resting delightfully.

Presently he heard a sweet sound of singing somewhere, such as hehad never heard before - a singing as of curious birds far off,which drew nearer and nearer. At length he heard their wings, and,opening his eyes, saw a number of very large birds, as it seemed,alighting around him, still singing. It was strange to hear songfrom the throats of such big birds.

And still singing, with large and round but not the less birdlikevoices, they began to weave a strange dance about him, moving theirwings in time with their legs. But the dance seemed somehow to betroubled and broken, and to return upon itself in an eddy, in placeof sweeping smoothly on.

And he soon learned, in the low short growls behind him, the causeof the imperfection: they wanted to dance all round the tree, butLina would not permit them to come on her side.

Now curdie liked the birds, and did not altogether like Lina. Butneither, nor both together, made a reason for driving away theprincess's creature. Doubtless she had been the goblins' creature,but the last time he saw her was in the king's house and the dovetower, and at the old princess's feet. So he left her to do as shewould, and the dance of the birds continued only a semicircle,troubled at the edges, and returning upon itself.

But their song and their motions, nevertheless, and the waving oftheir wings, began at length to make him very sleepy. All the timehe had kept doubting whether they could really be birds, and thesleepier he got, the more he imagined them something else, but hesuspected no harm.

Suddenly, just as he was sinking beneath the waves of slumber, heawoke in fierce pain. The birds were upon him - all over him - andhad begun to tear him with beaks and claws. He had but time,however, to feel that he could not move under their weight, whenthey set up a hideous screaming, and scattered like a cloud. Linawas among them, snapping and striking with her paws, while her tailknocked them over and over. But they flew up, gathered, anddescended on her in a swarm, perching upon every part of her body,so that he could see only a huge misshapen mass, which seemed to gorolling away into the darkness. He got up and tried to follow, butcould see nothing, and after wandering about hither and thither forsome time, found himself again beside the hawthorn. He fearedgreatly that the birds had been too much for Lina, and had torn herto pieces. In a little while, however, she came limping back, andlay down in her old place. Curdie also lay down, but, from thepain of his wounds, there was no sleep for him. When the lightcame he found his clothes a good deal torn and his skin as well,but gladly wondered why the wicked birds had not at once attackedhis eyes. Then he turned, looking for Lina. She rose and crept tohim. But she was in far worse plight than he - plucked and gashedand torn with the beaks and claws of the birds, especially aboutthe bare part of her neck, so that she was pitiful to see. Andthose worst wounds she could not reach to lick.

'Poor Lina!' said Curdie, 'you got all those helping me.'

She wagged her tail, and made it clear she understood him. Then itflashed upon Curdie's mind that perhaps this was the companion theprincess had promised him. For the princess did so many thingsdifferently from what anybody looked for! Lina was no beautycertainly, but already, the first night, she had saved his life.

'Come along, Lina,' he said, 'we want water.'

She put her nose to the earth, and after snuffing for a moment,darted off in a straight line. Curdie followed. The ground was souneven, that after losing sight of her many times, at last heseemed to have lost her altogether. In a few minutes, however, hecame upon her waiting for him. Instantly she darted off again. After he had lost and found her again many times, he found her thelast time lying beside a great stone. As soon as he came up shebegan scratching at it with her paws. When he had raised it aninch or two, she shoved in first her nose and then her teeth, andlifted with all the might of her neck.

When at length between them they got it up, there was a beautifullittle well. He filled his cap with the clearest and sweetestwater, and drank. Then he gave to Lina, and she drank plentifully. Next he washed her wounds very carefully. And as he did so, henoted how much the bareness of her neck added to the strangerepulsiveness of her appearance. Then he bethought him of thegoatskin wallet his mother had given him, and taking it from hisshoulders, tried whether it would do to make a collar of for thepoor animal. He found there was just enough, and the hair sosimilar in colour to Lina's, that no one could suspect it of havinggrown somewhere else.

He took his knife, ripped up the seams of the wallet, and begantrying the skin to her neck. it was plain she understood perfectlywhat he wished, for she endeavoured to hold her neck conveniently,turning it this way and that while he contrived, with his ratherscanty material, to make the collar fit. As his mother had takencare to provide him with needles and thread, he soon had a nicegorget ready for her. He laced it on with one of his boot laces,which its long hair covered. Poor Lina looked much better in it. Nor could any one have called it a piece of finery. If ever greeneyes with a yellow light in them looked grateful, hers did.

As they had no longer any bag to carry them in, Curdie and Lina nowate what was left of the provisions. Then they set out again upontheir journey. For seven days it lasted. They met with variousadventures, and in all of them Lina proved so helpful, and so readyto risk her life for the sake of her companion, that Curdie grewnot merely very fond but very trustful of her; and her ugliness,which at first only moved his pity, now actually increased hisaffection for her. One day, looking at her stretched on the grassbefore him, he said:

'Oh, Lina! If the princess would but burn you in her fire ofroses!'

She looked up at him, gave a mournful whine like a dog, and laidher head on his feet. What or how much he could not tell, butclearly she had gathered something from his words.

CHAPTER 12More Creatures

One day from morning till night they had been passing through aforest. As soon as the sun was down Curdie began to be aware thatthere were more in it than themselves. First he saw only the swiftrush of a figure across the trees at some distance. Then he sawanother and then another at shorter intervals. Then he saw othersboth farther off and nearer. At last, missing Lina and lookingabout after her, he saw an appearance as marvellous as herselfsteal up to her, and begin conversing with her after some beastfashion which evidently she understood.

Presently what seemed a quarrel arose between them, and strangernoises followed, mingled with growling. At length it came to afight, which had not lasted long, however, before the creature ofthe wood threw itself upon its back, and held up its paws to Lina. She instantly walked on, and the creature got up and followed her. They had not gone far before another strange animal appeared,approaching Lina, when precisely the same thing was repeated, thevanquished animal rising and following with the former. Again, andyet again, and again, a fresh animal came up, seemed to be reasonedand certainly was fought with and overcome by Lina, until at last,before they were out of the wood, she was followed by forty-nine ofthe most grotesquely ugly, the most extravagantly abnormal animalsimagination can conceive. To describe them were a hopeless task.

I knew a boy who used to make animals out of heather roots. Wherever he could find four legs, he was pretty sure to find a headand a tail. His beasts were a most comic menagerie, and rightfruitful of laughter. But they were not so grotesque andextravagant as Lina and her followers. One of them, for instance,was like a boa constrictor walking on four little stumpy legs nearits tail. About the same distance from its head were two littlewings, which it was forever fluttering as if trying to fly withthem. Curdie thought it fancied it did fly with them, when it wasmerely plodding on busily with its four little stumps. How itmanaged to keep up he could not think, till once when he missed itfrom the group: the same moment he caught sight of something at adistance plunging at an awful serpentine rate through the trees,and presently, from behind a huge ash, this same creature fellagain into the group, quietly waddling along on its four stumps.

Watching it after this, he saw that, when it was not able to keepup any longer, and they had all got a little space ahead, it shotinto the wood away from the route, and made a great round,serpentine alone in huge billows of motion, devouring the ground,undulating awfully, galloping as if it were all legs together, andits four stumps nowhere. In this mad fashion it shot ahead, and,a few minutes after, toddled in again among the rest, walkingpeacefully and somewhat painfully on its few fours.

From the time it takes to describe one of them it will be readilyseen that it would hardly do to attempt a description of each ofthe forty-nine. They were not a goodly company, but well worthcontemplating, nevertheless; and Curdie had been too long used tothe goblins' creatures in the mines and on the mountain, to feelthe least uncomfortable at being followed by such a herd. On thecontrary, the marvellous vagaries of shape they manifested amusedhim greatly, and shortened the journey much.

Before they were all gathered, however, it had got so dark that hecould see some of them only a part at a time, and every now andthen, as the company wandered on, he would be startled by someextraordinary limb or feature, undreamed of by him before,thrusting itself out of the darkness into the range of his ken. Probably there were some of his old acquaintances among them,although such had been the conditions of semi-darkness, in whichalone he had ever seen any of them, that it was not like he wouldbe able to identify any of them.

On they marched solemnly, almost in silence, for either with feetor voice the creatures seldom made any noise. By the time theyreached the outside of the wood it was morning twilight. Into theopen trooped the strange torrent of deformity, each one followingLina. Suddenly she stopped, turned towards them, and saidsomething which they understood, although to Curdie's ear thesounds she made seemed to have no articulation. Instantly they allturned, and vanished in the forest, and Lina alone came trottinglithely and clumsily after her master.

CHAPTER 13The Baker's Wife

They were now passing through a lovely country of hill and dale andrushing stream. The hills were abrupt, with broken chasms forwatercourses, and deep little valleys full of trees. But now andthen they came to a larger valley, with a fine river, whose levelbanks and the adjacent meadows were dotted all over with red andwhite kine, while on the fields above, that sloped a little to thefoot of the hills, grew oats and barley and wheat, and on the sidesof the hills themselves vines hung and chestnuts rose.

They came at last to a broad, beautiful river, up which they mustgo to arrive at the city of Gwyntystorm, where the king had hiscourt. As they went the valley narrowed, and then the river, butstill it was wide enough for large boats. After this, while theriver kept its size, the banks narrowed, until there was only roomfor a road between the river and the great Cliffs that overhung it. At last river and road took a sudden turn, and lo! a great rock inthe river, which dividing flowed around it, and on the top of therock the city, with lofty walls and towers and battlements, andabove the city the palace of the king, built like a strong castle. But the fortifications had long been neglected, for the wholecountry was now under one king, and all men said there was no moreneed for weapons or walls. No man pretended to love his neighbour,but every one said he knew that peace and quiet behaviour was thebest thing for himself, and that, he said, was quite as useful, anda great deal more reasonable. The city was prosperous and rich,and if everybody was not comfortable, everybody else said he oughtto be.

When Curdie got up opposite the mighty rock, which sparkled allover with crystals, he found a narrow bridge, defended by gates andportcullis and towers with loopholes. But the gates stood wideopen, and were dropping from their great hinges; the portcullis waseaten away with rust, and clung to the grooves evidently immovable;while the loopholed towers had neither floor nor roof, and theirtops were fast filling up their interiors. Curdie thought it apity, if only for their old story, that they should be thusneglected. But everybody in the city regarded these signs of decayas the best proof of the prosperity of the place. Commerce andself-interest, they said, had got the better of violence, and thetroubles of the past were whelmed in the riches that flowed in attheir open gates.

Indeed, there was one sect of philosophers in it which taught thatit would be better to forget all the past history of the city, wereit not that its former imperfections taught its present inhabitantshow superior they and their times were, and enabled them to gloryover their ancestors. There were even certain quacks in the citywho advertised pills for enabling people to think well ofthemselves, and some few bought of them, but most laughed, andsaid, with evident truth, that they did not require them. Indeed,the general theme of discourse when they met was, how much wiserthey were than their fathers.

Curdie crossed the river, and began to ascend the winding road thatled up to the city. They met a good many idlers, and all stared atthem. It was no wonder they should stare, but there was anunfriendliness in their looks which Curdie did not like. No one,however, offered them any molestation: Lina did not inviteliberties. After a long ascent, they reached the principal gate ofthe city and entered.

The street was very steep, ascending toward the palace, which rosein great strength above all the houses. just as they entered, abaker, whose shop was a few doors inside the gate, came out in hiswhite apron, and ran to the shop of his friend, the barber, on theopposite side of the way. But as he ran he stumbled and fellheavily. Curdie hastened to help him up, and found he had bruisedhis forehead badly. He swore grievously at the stone for trippinghim up, declaring it was the third time he had fallen over itwithin the last month; and saying what was the king about that heallowed such a stone to stick up forever on the main street of hisroyal residence of Gwyntystorm! What was a king for if he wouldnot take care of his people's heads! And he stroked his foreheadtenderly.'Was it your head or your feet that ought to bear the blame of yourfall?' asked Curdie.

'Why, you booby of a miner! My feet, of course,' answered

the baker.

'Nay, then,' said Curdie, 'the king can't be to blame.'

'Oh, I see!' said the baker. 'You're laying a trap for me. Ofcourse, if you come to that, it was my head that ought to havelooked after my feet. But it is the king's part to look after usall, and have his streets smooth.'

'Well, I don't see, said Curdie, 'why the king should take care ofthe baker, when the baker's head won't take care of the baker'sfeet.'

'Who are you to make game of the king's baker?' cried the man in arage.

But, instead of answering, Curdie went up to the bump on the streetwhich had repeated itself on the baker's head, and turning thehammer end of his mattock, struck it such a blow that it flew widein pieces. Blow after blow he struck until he had levelled it withthe street.

But out flew the barber upon him in a rage.'What do you break my window for, you rascal, with your pickaxe?'

'I am very sorry,' said Curdie. 'It must have been a bit of stonethat flew from my mattock. I couldn't help it, you know.'

'Couldn't help it! A fine story! What do you go breaking the rockfor - the very rock upon which the city stands?'

'Look at your friend's forehead,' said Curdie. 'See what a lump hehas got on it with falling over that same stone.'

'No, you fool!' answered the barber. 'What should I want with astone?'

Curdie stooped and picked up another.

'Give me that stone,' said the barber.

'No,' answered Curdie. 'You have just told me YOU don't want astone, and I do.'

The barber took Curdie by the collar.

'Come, now! You pay me for that window.'

'How much?' asked Curdie.

The barber said, 'A crown.' But the baker, annoyed at theheartlessness of the barber, in thinking more of his broken windowthan the bump on his friend's forehead, interfered.

'No, no,' he said to Curdie; 'don't you pay any such sum. A littlepane like that cost only a quarter.'

'Well, to be certain,' said Curdie, 'I'll give a half.' For hedoubted the baker as well as the barber. 'Perhaps one day, if hefinds he has asked too much, he will bring me the difference.'

'Ha! ha!' laughed the barber. 'A fool and his money are soonparted.'

But as he took the coin from Curdie's hand he grasped it inaffected reconciliation and real satisfaction. In Curdie's, hiswas the cold smooth leathery palm of a monkey. He looked up,almost expecting to see him pop the money in his cheek; but he hadnot yet got so far as that, though he was well on the road to it:then he would have no other pocket.

'I'm glad that stone is gone, anyhow,' said the baker. 'It was thebane of my life. I had no idea how easy it was to remove it. Giveme your pickaxes young miner, and I will show you how a baker canmake the stones fly.'

He caught the tool out of Curdie's hand, and flew at one of thefoundation stones of the gateway. But he jarred his arm terribly,scarcely chipped the stone, dropped the mattock with a cry of pain,and ran into his own shop. Curdie picked up his implement, and,looking after the baker, saw bread in the window, and followed himin. But the baker, ashamed of himself, and thinking he was comingto laugh at him, popped out of the back door, and when Curdieentered, the baker's wife came from the bakehouse to serve him. Curdie requested to know the price of a certain good-sized loaf.

Now the baker's wife had been watching what had passed since firsther husband ran out of the shop, and she liked the look of Curdie. Also she was more honest than her husband. Casting a glance to theback door, she replied:

'That is not the best bread. I will sell you a loaf of what webake for ourselves.' And when she had spoken she laid a finger onher lips. 'Take care of yourself in this place, MY son,' sheadded. 'They do not love strangers. I was once a stranger here,and I know what I say.' Then fancying she heard her husband, 'Thatis a strange animal you have,' she said, in a louder voice.

'Yes,' answered Curdie. 'She is no beauty, but she is very good,and we love each other. Don't we, Lina?'

Lina looked up and whined. Curdie threw her the half of his loaf,which she ate, while her master and the baker's wife talked alittle. Then the baker's wife gave them some water, and Curdiehaving paid for his loaf, he and Lina went up the street together.

CHAPTER 14The Dogs of Gwyntystorm

The steep street led them straight up to a large market place withbutchers' shops, about which were many dogs. The moment theycaught sight of Lina, one and all they came rushing down upon her,giving her no chance of explaining herself. When Curdie saw thedogs coming he heaved up his mattock over his shoulder, and wasready, if they would have it so. Seeing him thus prepared todefend his follower, a great ugly bulldog flew at him. With thefirst blow Curdie struck him through the brain and the brute felldead at his feet. But he could not at once recover his weapon,which stuck in the skull of his foe, and a huge mastiff, seeing himthus hampered, flew at him next.

Now Lina, who had shown herself so brave upon the road thither, hadgrown shy upon entering the city, and kept always at Curdie's heel. But it was her turn now. The moment she saw her master in dangershe seemed to go mad with rage. As the mastiff jumped at Curdie'sthroat, Lina flew at him, seized him with her tremendous jaws, gaveone roaring grind, and he lay beside the bulldog with his neckbroken. They were the best dogs in the market, after the judgementof the butchers of Gwyntystorm. Down came their masters, knives inhand.

Curdie drew himself up fearlessly, mattock on shoulder, and awaitedtheir coming, while at his heel his awful attendant showed not onlyher outside fringe of icicle teeth, but a double row of rightserviceable fangs she wore inside her mouth, and her green eyesflashed yellow as gold. The butchers, not liking the look ofeither of them or of the dogs at their feet, drew back, and beganto remonstrate in the manner of outraged men.

'Stranger,' said the first, 'that bulldog is mine.'

'Take him, then,' said Curdie, indignant.

'You've killed him!'

'Yes - else he would have killed me.'

'That's no business of mine.'

'No?'

'No.'

'That makes it the more mine, then.'

'This sort of thing won't do, you know,' said the other butcher.

'That's true,' said Curdie.'That's my mastiff,' said the butcher.

'And as he ought to be,' said Curdie.

'Your brute shall be burned alive for it,' said the butcher.

'Not yet,' answered Curdie. 'We have done no wrong. We werewalking quietly up your street when your dogs flew at us. If youdon't teach your dogs how to treat strangers, you must take theconsequences.'

'They treat them quite properly,' said the butcher. 'What righthas any one to bring an abomination like that into our city? Thehorror is enough to make an idiot of every child in the place.'

'We are both subjects of the king, and my poor animal can't helpher looks. How would you like to be served like that because youwere ugly? She's not a bit fonder of her looks than you are - onlywhat can she do to change them?'

'I'll do to change them,' said the fellow.

Thereupon the butchers brandished their long knives and advanced,keeping their eyes upon Lina.

Lina gave a howl that might have terrified an army, and crouchedready to spring. The butchers turned and ran.

By this time a great crowd had gathered behind the butchers, and init a number of boys returning from school who began to stone thestrangers. It was a way they had with man or beast they did notexpect to make anything by. One of the stones struck Lina; shecaught it in her teeth and crunched it so that it fell in gravelfrom her mouth. Some of the foremost of the crowd saw this, and itterrified them. They drew back; the rest took fright from theirretreat; the panic spread; and at last the crowd scattered in alldirections. They ran, and cried out, and said the devil and hisdam were come to Gwyntystorm. So Curdie and Lina were leftstanding unmolested in the market place. But the terror of themspread throughout the city, and everybody began to shut and lockhis door so that by the time the setting sun shone down the street,there was not a shop left open, for fear of the devil and hishorrible dam. But all the upper windows within sight of them werecrowded with heads watching them where they stood lonely in thedeserted market place.

Curdie looked carefully all round, but could not see one open door. He caught sight of the sign of an inn, however, and laying down hismattock, and telling Lina to take care of it, walked up to the doorof it and knocked. But the people in the house, instead of openingthe door, threw things at him from the windows. They would notlisten to a word he said, but sent him back to Lina with the bloodrunning down his face. When Lina saw that she leaped up in a furyand was rushing at the house, into which she would certainly havebroken; but Curdie called her, and made her lie down beside himwhile he bethought him what next he should do.

'Lina,' he said, 'the people keep their gates open, but theirhouses and their hearts shut.'

As if she knew it was her presence that had brought this troubleupon him, she rose and went round and round him, purring like atigress, and rubbing herself against his legs.

Now there was one little thatched house that stood squeezed inbetween two tall gables, and the sides of the two great houses shotout projecting windows that nearly met across the roof of thelittle one, so that it lay in the street like a doll's house. Inthis house lived a poor old woman, with a grandchild. And becauseshe never gossiped or quarrelled, or chaffered in the market, butwent without what she could not afford, the people called her awitch, and would have done her many an ill turn if they had notbeen afraid of her.

Now while Curdie was looking in another direction the door opened,and out came a little dark-haired, black-eyed, gypsy-looking child,and toddled across the market place toward the outcasts. Themoment they saw her coming, Lina lay down flat on the road, andwith her two huge forepaws covered her mouth, while Curdie went tomeet her, holding out his arms. The little one came straight tohim, and held up her mouth to be kissed. Then she took him by thehand, and drew him toward the house, and Curdie yielded to thesilent invitation.

But when Lina rose to follow, the child shrank from her, frighteneda little. Curdie took her up, and holding her on one arm, pattedLina with the other hand. Then the child wanted also to pat doggy,as she called her by a right bountiful stretch of courtesy, andhaving once patted her, nothing would serve but Curdie must let herhave a ride on doggy. So he set her on Lina's back, holding herhand, and she rode home in merry triumph, all unconscious of thehundreds of eyes staring at her foolhardiness from the windowsabout the market place, or the murmur of deep disapproval that rosefrom as many lips.

At the door stood the grandmother to receive them. She caught thechild to her bosom with delight at her courage, welcomed Curdie,and showed no dread of Lina. Many were the significant nodsexchanged, and many a one said to another that the devil and thewitch were old friends. But the woman was only a wise woman, who,having seen how Curdie and Lina behaved to each other, judged fromthat what sort they were, and so made them welcome to her house. She was not like her fellow townspeople, for that they werestrangers recommended them to her.

The moment her door was shut the other doors began to open, andsoon there appeared little groups here and there about a threshold,while a few of the more courageous ventured out upon the square -all ready to make for their houses again, however, upon the leastsign of movement in the little thatched one.

The baker and the barber had joined one of these groups, and werebusily wagging their tongues against Curdie and his horrible beast.

'He can't be honest,' said the barber; 'for he paid me double theworth of the pane he broke in my window.'

And then he told them how Curdie broke his window by breaking astone in the street with his hammer. There the baker struck in.

'Now that was the stone,' said he, 'over which I had fallen threetimes within the last month: could it be by fair means he brokethat to pieces at the first blow? Just to make up my mind on thatpoint I tried his own hammer against a stone in the gate; it nearlybroke both my arms, and loosened half the teeth in my head!'

CHAPTER 15Derba and Barbara

Meantime the wanderers were hospitably entertained by the old womanand her grandchild and they were all very comfortable and happytogether. Little Barbara sat upon Curdie's knee, and he told herstories about the mines and his adventures in them. But he nevermentioned the king or the princess, for all that story was hard tobelieve. And he told her about his mother and father, and how goodthey were. And Derba sat and listened. At last little Barbarafell asleep in Curdie's arms, and her grandmother carried her tobed.

It was a poor little house, and Derba gave up her own room toCurdie because he was honest and talked wisely. Curdie saw how itwas, and begged her to allow him to lie on the floor, but she wouldnot hear of it.

In the night he was waked by Lina pulling at him. As soon as hespoke to her she ceased, and Curdie, listening, thought he heardsomeone trying to get in. He rose, took his mattock, and wentabout the house, listening and watching; but although he heardnoises now at one place now at another, he could not think whatthey meant for no one appeared. Certainly, considering how she hadfrightened them all in the day, it was not likely any one wouldattack Lina at night. By and by the noises ceased, and Curdie wentback to his bed, and slept undisturbed.

In the morning, however, Derba came to him in great agitation, andsaid they had fastened up the door, so that she could not get out. Curdie rose immediately and went with her: they found that not onlythe door, but every window in the house was so secured on theoutside that it was impossible to open one of them without usinggreat force. Poor Derba looked anxiously in Curdie's face. Hebroke out laughing.

'They are much mistaken,' he said, 'if they fancy they could keepLina and a miner in any house in Gwyntystorm - even if they builtup doors and windows.'

With that he shouldered his mattock. But Derba begged him not tomake a hole in her house just yet. She had plenty for breakfast,she said, and before it was time for dinner they would know whatthe people meant by it.

And indeed they did. For within an hour appeared one of the chiefmagistrates of the city, accompanied by a score of soldiers withdrawn swords, and followed by a great multitude of people,requiring the miner and his brute to yield themselves, the one thathe might be tried for the disturbance he had occasioned and theinjury he had committed, the other that she might be roasted alivefor her part in killing two valuable and harmless animals belongingto worthy citizens. The summons was preceded and followed byflourish of trumpet, and was read with every formality by the citymarshal himself.

The moment he ended, Lina ran into the little passage, and stoodopposite the door.

'I surrender,' cried Curdie.

'Then tie up your brute, and give her here.'

'No, no,' cried Curdie through the door. 'I surrender; but I'm notgoing to do your hangman's work. If you want MY dog, you must takeher.'

'Then we shall set the house on fire, and burn witch and all.'

'It will go hard with us but we shall kill a few dozen of youfirst,' cried Curdie. 'We're not the least afraid of you.' Withthat Curdie turned to Derba, and said:

'Don't be frightened. I have a strong feeling that all will bewell. Surely no trouble will come to you for being good tostrangers.'

'But the poor dog!' said Derba.

Now Curdie and Lina understood each other more than a little bythis time, and not only had he seen that she understood theproclamation, but when she looked up at him after it was read, itwas with such a grin, and such a yellow flash, that he saw also shewas determined to take care of herself.'The dog will probably give you reason to think a little more ofher ere long,' he answered. 'But now,' he went on, 'I fear I musthurt your house a little. I have great confidence, however, thatI shall be able to make up to you for it one day.'

'Never mind the house, if only you can get safe off,' she answered. 'I don't think they will hurt this precious lamb,' she added,clasping little Barbara to her bosom. 'For myself, it is all one;I am ready for anything.'

'it is but a little hole for Lina I want to make,' said Curdie. 'She can creep through a much smaller one than you would think.'

Again he took his mattock, and went to the back wall.

'They won't burn the house,' he said to himself. 'There is toogood a one on each side of it.'

The tumult had kept increasing every moment, and the city marshalhad been shouting, but Curdie had not listened to him. When nowthey heard the blows of his mattock, there went up a great cry, andthe people taunted the soldiers that they were afraid of a dog andhis miner. The soldiers therefore made a rush at the door, and cutits fastenings.

The moment they opened it, out leaped Lina, with a roar sounnaturally horrible that the sword arms of the soldiers dropped bytheir sides, paralysed with the terror of that cry; the crowd fledin every direction, shrieking and yelling with mortal dismay; andwithout even knocking down with her tail, not to say biting a manof them with her pulverizing jaws, Lina vanished - no one knewwhither, for not one of the crowd had had courage to look upon her.

The moment she was gone, Curdie advanced and gave himself up. Thesoldiers were so filled with fear, shame, and chagrin, that theywere ready to kill him on the spot. But he stood quietly facingthem, with his mattock on his shoulder; and the magistrate wishingto examine him, and the people to see him made an example of, thesoldiers had to content themselves with taking him. Partly forderision, partly to hurt him, they laid his mattock against hisback, and tied his arms to it.

They led him up a very steep street, and up another still, all thecrowd following. The king's palace-castle rose towering abovethem; but they stopped before they reached it, at a low-browed doorin a great, dull, heavy-looking building.

The city marshal opened it with a key which hung at his girdle, andordered Curdie to enter. The place within was dark as night, andwhile he was feeling his way with his feet, the marshal gave him arough push. He fell, and rolled once or twice over, unable to helphimself because his hands were tied behind him.

It was the hour of the magistrate's second and more importantbreakfast, and until that was over he never found himself capableof attending to a case with concentration sufficient to thedistinguishing of the side upon which his own advantage lay; andhence was this respite for Curdie, with time to collect histhoughts. But indeed he had very few to collect, for all he had todo, so far as he could see, was to wait for what would come next. Neither had he much power to collect them, for he was a good dealshaken.

in a few minutes he discovered, to his great relief, that, from theprojection of the pick end of his mattock beyond his body, the fallhad loosened the ropes tied round it. He got one hand disengaged,and then the other; and presently stood free, with his good mattockonce more in right serviceable relation to his arms and legs.

CHAPTER 16The Mattock

While The magistrate reinvigorated his selfishness with a greedybreakfast, Curdie found doing nothing in the dark rather tiresomework. it was useless attempting to think what he should do next,seeing the circumstances in which he was presently to find himselfwere altogether unknown to him. So he began to think about hisfather and mother in their little cottage home, high in the clearair of the open Mountainside, and the thought, instead of makinghis dungeon gloomier by the contrast, made a light in his soul thatdestroyed the power of darkness and captivity.

But he was at length startled from his waking dream by a swell inthe noise outside. All the time there had been a few of the moreidle of the inhabitants about the door, but they had been ratherquiet. Now, however, the sounds of feet and voices began to grow,and grew so rapidly that it was plain a multitude was gathering. For the people of Gwyntystorm always gave themselves an hour ofpleasure after their second breakfast, and what greater pleasurecould they have than to see a stranger abused by the officers ofjustice?

The noise grew till it was like the roaring of the sea, and thatroaring went on a long time, for the magistrate, being a great man,liked to know that he was waited for: it added to the enjoyment ofhis breakfast, and, indeed, enabled him to eat a little more afterhe had thought his powers exhausted.

But at length, in the waves of the human noises rose a bigger wave,and by the running and shouting and outcry, Curdie learned that themagistrate was approaching.

Presently came the sound of the great rusty key in the lock, whichyielded with groaning reluctance; the door was thrown back, thelight rushed in, and with it came the voice of the city marshal,calling upon Curdie, by many legal epithets opprobrious, to comeforth and be tried for his life, inasmuch as he had raised a tumultin His Majesty's city of Gwyntystorm, troubled the hearts of theking's baker and barber, and slain the faithful dogs of HisMajesty's well-beloved butchers.

He was still reading, and Curdie was still seated in the browntwilight of the vault, not listening, but pondering with himselfhow this king the city marshal talked of could be the same with theMajesty he had seen ride away on his grand white horse with thePrincess Irene on a cushion before him, when a scream of agonizedterror arose on the farthest skirt of the crowd, and, swifter thanflood or flame, the horror spread shrieking. In a moment the airwas filled with hideous howling, cries of unspeakable dismay, andthe multitudinous noise of running feet. The next moment, in atthe door of the vault bounded Lina, her two green eyes flamingyellow as sunflowers, and seeming to light up the dungeon. Withone spring she threw herself at Curdie's feet, and laid her headupon them panting. Then came a rush of two or three soldiersdarkening the doorway, but it was only to lay hold of the key, pullthe door to, and lock it; so that once more Curdie and Lina wereprisoners together.

For a few moments Lina lay panting hard: it is breathless workleaping and roaring both at once, and that in a way to scatterthousands of people. Then she jumped up, and began snuffing aboutall over the place; and Curdie saw what he had never seen before -two faint spots of light cast from her eyes upon the ground, one oneach side of her snuffing nose. He got out his tinder box - aminer is never without one - and lighted a precious bit of candlehe carried in a division of it just for a moment, for he must notwaste it.

The light revealed a vault without any window or other opening thanthe door. It was very old and much neglected. The mortar hadvanished from between the stones, and it was half filled with aheap of all sorts of rubbish, beaten down in the middle, but looserat the sides; it sloped from the door to the foot of the oppositewall: evidently for a long time the vault had been left open, andevery sort of refuse thrown into it. A single minute served forthe survey, so little was there to note.

Meantime, down in the angle between the back wall and the base ofthe heap Lina was scratching furiously with all the eighteen greatstrong claws of her mighty feet.

'Ah, ha!' said Curdie to himself, catching sight of her, 'if onlythey will leave us long enough to ourselves!'

With that he ran to the door, to see if there was any fastening onthe inside. There was none: in all its long history it never hadhad one. But a few blows of the right sort, now from the one, nowfrom the other end of his mattock, were as good as any bolt, forthey so ruined the lock that no key could ever turn in it again. Those who heard them fancied he was trying to get out, and laughedspitefully. As soon as he had done, he extinguished his candle,and went down to Lina.

She had reached the hard rock which formed the floor of thedungeon, and was now clearing away the earth a little wider. Presently she looked up in his face and whined, as much as to say,'My paws are not hard enough to get any farther.'

'Then get out of my way, Lina,' said Curdie, and mind you keep youreyes shining, for fear I should hit you.'

So saying, he heaved his mattock, and assailed with the hammer endof it the spot she had cleared.

The rock was very hard, but when it did break it broke ingood-sized pieces. Now with hammer, now with pick, he worked tillhe was weary, then rested, and then set to again. He could nottell how the day went, as he had no light but the lamping of Lina'seyes. The darkness hampered him greatly, for he would not let Linacome close enough to give him all the light she could, lest heshould strike her. So he had, every now and then, to feel with hishands to know how he was getting on, and to discover in whatdirection to strike: the exact spot was a mere imagination.

He was getting very tired and hungry, and beginning to lose hearta little, when out of the ground, as if he had struck a spring ofit, burst a dull, gleamy, lead-coloured light, and the next momenthe heard a hollow splash and echo. A piece of rock had fallen outof the floor, and dropped into water beneath. Already Lina, whohad been lying a few yards off all the time he worked, was on herfeet and peering through the hole. Curdie got down on his handsand knees, and looked. They were over what seemed a natural cavein the rock, to which apparently the river had access, for, at agreat distance below, a faint light was gleaming upon water. Ifthey could but reach it, they might get out; but even if it wasdeep enough, the height was very dangerous. The first thing,whatever might follow, was to make the hole larger. It wascomparatively easy to break away the sides of it, and in the courseof another hour he had it large enough to get through.

And now he must reconnoitre. He took the rope they had tied himwith - for Curdie's hindrances were always his furtherance - andfastened one end of it by a slipknot round the handle of hispickaxes then dropped the other end through, and laid the pickaxeso that, when he was through himself, and hanging on the edge, hecould place it across the hole to support him on the rope. Thisdone, he took the rope in his hands, and, beginning to descend,found himself in a narrow cleft widening into a cave. His rope wasnot very long, and would not do much to lessen the force of hisfall - he thought to himself - if he should have to drop into thewater; but he was not more than a couple of yards below the dungeonwhen he spied an opening on the opposite side of the cleft: itmight be but a shadow hole, or it might lead them out. He droppedhimself a little below its level, gave the rope a swing by pushinghis feet against the side of the cleft, and so penduled himselfinto it. Then he laid a stone on the end of the rope that itshould not forsake him, called to Lina, whose yellow eyes weregleaming over the mattock grating above, to watch there till hereturned, and went cautiously in. It proved a passage, level forsome distance, then sloping gently up. He advanced carefully,feeling his way as he went. At length he was stopped by a door -a small door, studded with iron. But the wood was in places somuch decayed that some of the bolts had dropped out, and he feltsure of being able to open it. He returned, therefore, to fetchLina and his mattock. Arrived at the cleft, his strong miner armsbore him swiftly up along the rope and through the hole into thedungeon. There he undid the rope from his mattock, and making Linatake the end of it in her teeth, and get through the hole, helowered her - it was all he could do, she was so heavy. When shecame opposite the passage, with a slight push of her tail she shotherself into it, and let go the rope, which Curdie drew up.

Then he lighted his candle and searching in the rubbish found a bitof iron to take the place of his pickaxe across the hole. Then hesearched again in the rubbish, and found half an old shutter. Thishe propped up leaning a little over the hole, with a bit of stick,and heaped against the back of it a quantity of the loosened earth. Next he tied his mattock to the end of the rope, dropped it, andlet it hang. Last, he got through the hole himself, and pulledaway the propping stick, so that the shutter fell over the holewith a quantity of earth on the top of it. A few motions of handover hand, and he swung himself and his mattock into the passagebeside Lina.

There he secured the end of the rope, and they went on together tothe door.

CHAPTER 17The Wine Cellar

He lighted his candle and examined it. Decayed and broken as itwas, it was strongly secured in its place by hinges on the oneside, and either lock or bolt, he could not tell which, on theother. A brief use of his pocket-knife was enough to make room forhis hand and arm to get through, and then he found a great ironbolt - but so rusty that he could not move it.

Lina whimpered. He took his knife again, made the hole bigger, andstood back. In she shot her small head and long neck, seized thebolt with her teeth, and dragged it, grating and complaining, back. A push then opened the door. it was at the foot of a short flightof steps. They ascended, and at the top Curdie found himself in aspace which, from the echo to his stamp, appeared of some size,though of what sort he could not at first tell, for his hands,feeling about, came upon nothing. Presently, however, they fell ona great thing: it was a wine cask.

He was just setting out to explore the place thoroughly, when heheard steps coming down a stair. He stood still, not knowingwhether the door would open an inch from his nose or twenty yardsbehind his back. It did neither. He heard the key turn in thelock, and a stream of light shot in, ruining the darkness, aboutfifteen yards away on his right.

A man carrying a candle in one hand and a large silver flagon inthe other, entered, and came toward him. The light revealed a rowof huge wine casks, that stretched away into the darkness of theother end of the long vault. Curdie retreated into the recess ofthe stair, and peeping round the corner of it, watched him,thinking what he could do to prevent him from locking them in. Hecame on and on, until curdie feared he would pass the recess andsee them. He was just preparing to rush out, and master him beforehe should give alarm, not in the least knowing what he should donext, when, to his relief, the man stopped at the third cask fromwhere he stood. He set down his light on the top of it, removedwhat seemed a large vent-peg, and poured into the cask a quantityof something from the flagon. Then he turned to the next cask,drew some wine, rinsed the flagon, threw the wine away, drew andrinsed and threw away again, then drew and drank, draining to thebottom. Last of all, he filled the flagon from the cask he hadfirst visited, replaced then the vent-peg, took up his candle, andturned toward the door.

'There is something wrong here!' thought Curdie.

'Speak to him, Lina,' he whispered.

The sudden howl she gave made Curdie himself start and tremble fora moment. As to the man, he answered Lina's with another horriblehowl, forced from him by the convulsive shudder of every muscle ofhis body, then reeled gasping to and fro, and dropped his candle. But just as Curdie expected to see him fall dead he recoveredhimself, and flew to the door, through which he darted, leaving itopen behind him. The moment he ran, Curdie stepped out, picked upthe candle still alight, sped after him to the door, drew out thekey, and then returned to the stair and waited. in a few minuteshe heard the sound of many feet and voices. Instantly he turnedthe tap of the cask from which the man had been drinking, set thecandle beside it on the floor, went down the steps and out of thelittle door, followed by Lina, and closed it behind them.

Through the hole in it he could see a little, and hear all. Hecould see how the light of many candles filled the place, and couldhear how some two dozen feet ran hither and thither through theechoing cellar; he could hear the clash of iron, probably spits andpokers, now and then; and at last heard how, finding nothingremarkable except the best wine running to waste, they all turnedon the butler and accused him of having fooled them with a drunkendream. He did his best to defend himself, appealing to theevidence of their own senses that he was as sober as they were. They replied that a fright was no less a fright that the cause wasimaginary, and a dream no less a dream that the fright had wakedhim from it.

When he discovered, and triumphantly adduced as corroboration, thatthe key was gone from the door, they said it merely showed howdrunk he had been - either that or how frightened, for he hadcertainly dropped it. In vain he protested that he had never takenit out of the lock - that he never did when he went in, andcertainly had not this time stopped to do so when he came out; theyasked him why he had to go to the cellar at such a time of the day,and said it was because he had already drunk all the wine that wasleft from dinner. He said if he had dropped the key, the key wasto be found, and they must help him to find it. They told him theywouldn't move a peg for him. He declared, with much language, hewould have them all turned out of the king's service. They saidthey would swear he was drunk.

And so positive were they about it, that at last the butler himselfbegan to think whether it was possible they could be in the right. For he knew that sometimes when he had been drunk he fancied thingshad taken place which he found afterward could not have happened. Certain of his fellow servants, however, had all the time a doubtwhether the cellar goblin had not appeared to him, or at leastroared at him, to protect the wine. in any case nobody wanted tofind the key for him; nothing could please them better than thatthe door of the wine cellar should never more be locked. Bydegrees the hubbub died away, and they departed, not even pullingto the door, for there was neither handle nor latch to it.

As soon as they were gone, Curdie returned, knowing now that theywere in the wine cellar of the palace, as indeed, he had suspected. Finding a pool of wine in a hollow of the floor, Lina lapped it upeagerly: she had had no breakfast, and was now very thirsty as wellas hungry. Her master was in a similar plight, for he had but justbegun to eat when the magistrate arrived with the soldiers. Ifonly they were all in bed, he thought, that he might find his wayto the larder! For he said to himself that, as he was sent thereby the young princess's great-great-grandmother to serve her or herfather in some way, surely he must have a right to his food in thePalace, without which he could do nothing. He would go at once andreconnoitre.

So he crept up the stair that led from the cellar. At the top wasa door, opening on a long passage dimly lighted by a lamp. He toldLina to lie down upon the stair while he went on. At the end ofthe passage he found a door ajar, and, peering through, saw rightinto a great stone hall, where a huge fire was blazing, and throughwhich men in the king's livery were constantly coming and going. Some also in the same livery were lounging about the fire. Henoted that their colours were the same as those he himself, asking's miner, wore; but from what he had seen and heard of thehabits of the place, he could not hope they would treat him thebetter for that.

The one interesting thing at the moment, however, was the plentifulsupper with which the table was spread. It was something at leastto stand in sight of food, and he was unwilling to turn his back onthe prospect so long as a share in it was not absolutely hopeless. Peeping thus, he soon made UP his mind that if at any moment thehall should be empty, he would at that moment rush in and attemptto carry off a dish. That he might lose no time by indecision, heselected a large pie upon which to pounce instantaneously. Butafter he had watched for some minutes, it did not seem at alllikely the chance would arrive before suppertime, and he was justabout to turn away and rejoin Lina, when he saw that there was nota person in the place. Curdie never made up his mind and thenhesitated. He darted in, seized the pie, and bore it swiftly andnoiselessly to the cellar stair.

CHAPTER 18The King's Kitchen

Back to the cellar Curdie and Lina sped with their booty, where,seated on the steps, Curdie lighted his bit of candle for a moment. A very little bit it was now, but they did not waste much of it inexamination of the pie; that they effected by a more summaryprocess. Curdie thought it the nicest food he had ever tasted, andbetween them they soon ate it up. Then Curdie would have thrownthe dish along with the bones into the water, that there might beno traces of them; but he thought of his mother, and hid itinstead; and the very next minute they wanted it to draw some wineinto. He was careful it should be from the cask of which he hadseen the butler drink.

Then they sat down again upon the steps, and waited until the houseshould be quiet. For he was there to do something, and if it didnot come to him in the cellar, he must go to meet it in otherplaces. Therefore, lest he should fall asleep, he set the end ofthe helve of his mattock on the ground, and seated himself on thecross part, leaning against the wall, so that as long as he keptawake he should rest, but the moment he began to fall asleep hemust fall awake instead. He quite expected some of the servantswould visit the cellar again that night, but whether it was thatthey were afraid of each other, or believed more of the butler'sstory than they had chosen to allow, not one of them appeared.

When at length he thought he might venture, he shouldered hismattock and crept up the stair. The lamp was out in the passage,but he could not miss his way to the servants' hall. Trusting toLina's quickness in concealing herself, he took her with him.

When they reached the hall they found it quiet and nearly dark. The last of the great fire was glowing red, but giving littlelight. Curdie stood and warmed himself for a few moments: miner ashe was, he had found the cellar cold to sit in doing nothing; andstanding thus he thought of looking if there were any bits ofcandle about. There were many candlesticks on the supper table,but to his disappointment and indignation their candles seemed tohave been all left to burn out, and some of them, indeed, he foundstill hot in the neck.

Presently, one after another, he came upon seven men fast asleep,most of them upon tables, one in a chair, and one on the floor. They seemed, from their shape and colour, to have eaten and drunkso much that they might be burned alive without wakening. Hegrasped the hand of each in succession,and found two ox hoofs,three pig hoofs, one concerning which he could not be sure whetherit was the hoof of a donkey or a pony, and one dog's paw. 'A niceset of people to be about a king!' thought Curdie to himself, andturned again to his candle hunt. He did at last find two or threelittle pieces, and stowed them away in his pockets. They now leftthe hall by another door, and entered a short passage, which ledthem to the huge kitchen, vaulted and black with smoke. There,too, the fire was still burning, so that he was able to see alittle of the state of things in this quarter also.

The place was dirty and disorderly. In a recess, on a heap ofbrushwood, lay a kitchen-maid, with a table cover around her, anda skillet in her hand: evidently she too had been drinking. Inanother corner lay a page, and Curdie noted how like his dress wasto his own. in the cinders before the hearth were huddled threedogs and five cats, all fast asleep, while the rats were runningabout the floor. Curdie's heart ached to think of the lovelychild-princess living over such a sty. The mine was a paradise toa palace with such servants in it.

Leaving the kitchen, he got into the region of the sculleries. There horrible smells were wandering about, like evil spirits thatcome forth with the darkness. He lighted a candle - but only tosee ugly sights. Everywhere was filth and disorder. Mangyturnspit dogs were lying about, and grey rats were gnawing atrefuse in the sinks. It was like a hideous dream. He felt as ifhe should never get out of it, and longed for one glimpse of hismother's poor little kitchen, so clean and bright and airy. Turning from it at last in miserable disgust, he almost ran backthrough the kitchen, re-entered the hall, and crossed it to anotherdoor.

It opened upon a wider passage leading to an arch in a statelycorridor, all its length lighted by lamps in niches. At the end ofit was a large and beautiful hall, with great pillars. There satthree men in the royal livery, fast asleep, each in a greatarmchair, with his feet on a huge footstool. They looked likefools dreaming themselves kings; and Lina looked as if she longedto throttle them. At one side of the hall was the grand staircase,and they went up.Everything that now met Curdie's eyes was rich - not glorious likethe splendours of the mountain cavern, but rich and soft - exceptwhere, now and then, some rough old rib of the ancient fortresscame through, hard and discoloured. Now some dark bare arch ofstone, now some rugged and blackened pillar, now some huge beam,brown with the smoke and dust of centuries, looked like a thistlein the midst of daisies, or a rock in a smooth lawn.

They wandered about a good while, again and again findingthemselves where they had been before. Gradually, however, Curdiewas gaining some idea of the place. By and by Lina began to lookfrightened, and as they went on Curdie saw that she looked more andmore frightened. Now, by this time he had come to understand thatwhat made her look frightened was always the fear of frightening,and he therefore concluded they must be drawing nigh to somebody.

At last, in a gorgeously painted gallery, he saw a curtain ofcrimson, and on the curtain a royal crown wrought in silks andstones. He felt sure this must be the king's chamber, and it washere he was wanted; or, if it was not the place he was bound for,something would meet him and turn him aside; for he had come tothink that so long as a man wants to do right he may go where hecan: when he can go no farther, then it is not the way. 'Only,'said his father, in assenting to the theory, 'he must really wantto do right, and not merely fancy he does. He must want it withhis heart and will, and not with his rag of a tongue.'So he gently lifted the corner of the curtain, and there behind itwas a half-open door. He entered, and the moment he was in, Linastretched herself along the threshold between the curtain and thedoor.

CHAPTER 19The King's Chamber

He found himself in a large room, dimly lighted by a silver lampthat hung from the ceiling. Far at the other end was a great bed,surrounded with dark heavy curtains. He went softly toward it, hisheart beating fast. It was a dreadful thing to be alone in theking's chamber at the dead of night. To gain courage he had toremind himself of the beautiful princess who had sent him.

But when he was about halfway to the bed, a figure appeared fromthe farther side of it, and came towards him, with a hand raisedwarningly. He stood still. The light was dim, and he coulddistinguish little more than the outline of a young girl. Butthough the form he saw was much taller than the princess heremembered, he never doubted it was she. For one thing, he knewthat most girls would have been frightened to see him there in thedead of the night, but like a true princess, and the princess heused to know, she walked straight on to meet him. As she came shelowered the hand she had lifted, and laid the forefinger of it uponher lips. Nearer and nearer, quite near, close up to him she came,then stopped, and stood a moment looking at him.

'You are Curdie,' she said.

'And you are the Princess Irene,' he returned.

'Then we know each other still,' she said, with a sad smile ofpleasure. 'You will help me.'

'That I will,' answered Curdie. He did not say, 'If I can';

for he knew that what he was sent to do, that he could do. 'May Ikiss your hand, little Princess?'

She was only between nine and ten, though indeed she looked severalyears older, and her eyes almost those of a grown woman, for shehad had terrible trouble of late.

She held out her hand.

'I am not the little princess any more. I have grown up since Isaw you last, Mr Miner.'

The smile which accompanied the words had in it a strange mixtureof playfulness and sadness.'So I see, Miss Princess,' returned Curdie; 'and therefore, beingmore of a princess, you are the more my princess. Here I am, sentby your great-great-grandmother, to be your servant. May I ask whyyou are up so late, Princess?'

'Because my father wakes so frightened, and I don't know what hewould do if he didn't find me by his bedside. There! he's wakingnow.'

She darted off to the side of the bed she had come from.

Curdie stood where he was.

A voice altogether unlike what he remembered of the mighty, nobleking on his white horse came from the bed, thin, feeble, hollow,and husky, and in tone like that of a petulant child:

'I will not, I will not. I am a king, and I will be a king. Ihate you and despise you, and you shall not torture me!'

'Never mind them, Father dear,' said the princess. 'I am here, andthey shan't touch you. They dare not, you know, so long as youdefy them.'

'They want my crown, darling; and I can't give them my crown, canI? For what is a king without his crown?''They shall never have your crown, my king,' said Irene. 'Here itis - all safe. I am watching it for you.'

Curdie drew near the bed on the other side. There lay the grandold king - he looked grand still, and twenty years older. His bodywas pillowed high; his beard descended long and white over thecrimson coverlid; and his crown, its diamonds and emeralds gleamingin the twilight of the curtains, lay in front of him, his long thinold hands folded round it, and the ends of his beard straying amongthe lovely stones. His face was like that of a man who had diedfighting nobly; but one thing made it dreadful: his eyes, whilethey moved about as if searching in this direction and in that,looked more dead than his face. He saw neither his daughter norhis crown: it was the voice of the one and the touch of the otherthat comforted him. He kept murmuring what seemed words, but wasunintelligible to Curdie, although, to judge from the look ofIrene's face, she learned and concluded from it.

By degrees his voice sank away and the murmuring ceased, althoughstill his lips moved. Thus lay the old king on his bed, slumberingwith his crown between his hands; on one side of him stood a lovelylittle maiden, with blue eyes, and brown hair going a little backfrom her temples, as if blown by a wind that no one felt butherself; and on the other a stalwart young miner, with his mattockover his shoulder. Stranger sight still was Lina lying along thethreshold - only nobody saw her just then.

A moment more and the king's lips ceased to move. His breathinghad grown regular and quiet. The princess gave a sigh of relief,and came round to Curdie.

'We can talk a little now,' she said, leading him toward the middleof the room. 'My father will sleep now till the doctor wakes himto give him his medicine. It is not really medicine, though, butwine. Nothing but that, the doctor says, could have kept him solong alive. He always comes in the middle of the night to give ithim with his own hands. But it makes me cry to see him wake upwhen so nicely asleep.'

'What sort of man is your doctor?' asked Curdie.

'Oh, such a dear, good, kind gentleman!' replied the princess. 'Hespeaks so softly, and is so sorry for his dear king! He will behere presently, and you shall see for yourself. You will like himvery much.'

'Has your king-father been long ill?' asked Curdie.

'A whole year now,' she replied. 'Did you not know? That's howyour mother never got the red petticoat my father promised her. The lord chancellor told me that not only Gwyntystorm but the wholeland was mourning over the illness of the good man.'

Now Curdie himself had not heard a word of His Majesty's illness,and had no ground for believing that a single soul in any place hehad visited on his journey had heard of it. Moreover, althoughmention had been made of His Majesty again and again in his hearingsince he came to Gwyntystorm, never once had he heard an allusionto the state of his health. And now it dawned upon him also thathe had never heard the least expression of love to him. But justfor the time he thought it better to say nothing on either point.

'Does the king wander like this every night?' he asked.

'Every night,' answered Irene, shaking her head mournfully. 'Thatis why I never go to bed at night. He is better during the day -a little, and then I sleep - in the dressing room there, to be withhim in a moment if he should call me. It is so sad he should haveonly me and not my mamma! A princess is nothing to a queen!'

'I wish he would like me,' said Curdie, 'for then I might watch byhim at night, and let you go to bed, Princess.'

'Don't you know then?' returned Irene, in wonder. 'How was it youcame? Ah! You said my grandmother sent you. But I thought youknew that he wanted you.'

And again she opened wide her blue stars.

'Not I,' said Curdie, also bewildered, but very glad.

'He used to be constantly saying - he was not so ill then as he isnow - that he wished he had you about him.'

'And I never to know it!' said Curdie, with displeasure.

'The master of the horse told papa's own secretary that he hadwritten to the miner-general to find you and send you up; but theminer-general wrote back to the master of the horse, and he toldthe secretary, and the secretary told my father, that they hadsearched every mine in the kingdom and could hear nothing of you. My father gave a great sigh, and said he feared the goblins had gotyou, after all, and your father and mother were dead of grief. Andhe has never mentioned you since, except when wandering. I criedvery much. But one of my grandmother's pigeons with its white wingflashed a message to me through the window one day, and then I knewthat my Curdie wasn't eaten by the goblins, for my grandmotherwouldn't have taken care of him one time to let him be eaten thenext. Where were you, Curdie, that they couldn't find you?'

'We will talk about that another time, when we are not expectingthe doctor,' said Curdie.

As he spoke, his eyes fell upon something shining on the tableunder the lamp. His heart gave a great throb, and he went nearer. Yes, there could be no doubt - it was the same flagon that thebutler had filled in the wine cellar.

'It looks worse and worse!'he said to himself, and went back toIrene, where she stood half dreaming.

'When will the doctor be here?' he asked once more - this timehurriedly.

The question was answered - not by the princess, but by somethingwhich that instant tumbled heavily into the room. Curdie flewtoward it in vague terror about Lina.

On the floor lay a little round man, puffing and blowing, anduttering incoherent language. Curdie thought of his mattock, andran and laid it aside.

'Oh, dear Dr Kelman!' cried the princess, running up and takinghold of his arm; 'I am so sorry!' She pulled and pulled, but mightalmost as well have tried to set up a cannon ball. 'I hope youhave not hurt yourself?'

'Not at all, not at all,' said the doctor, trying to smile and torise both at once, but finding it impossible to do either.

'if he slept on the floor he would be late for breakfast,' saidCurdie to himself, and held out his hand to help him.

But when he took hold of it, Curdie very nearly let him fall again,for what he held was not even a foot: it was the belly of acreeping thing. He managed, however, to hold both his peace andhis grasp, and pulled the doctor roughly on his legs - such as theywere.

'Your Royal Highness has rather a thick mat at the door,' said thedoctor, patting his palms together. 'I hope my awkwardness may nothave startled His Majesty.'

While he talked Curdie went to the door: Lina was not there.

The doctor approached the bed.

'And how has my beloved king slept tonight?' he asked.

'No better,' answered Irene, with a mournful shake of her head.

'Ah, that is very well!' returned the doctor, his fall seeming tohave muddled either his words or his meaning. 'When we give himhis wine, he will be better still.'

Curdie darted at the flagon, and lifted it high, as if he hadexpected to find it full, but had found it empty.

'That stupid butler! I heard them say he was drunk!' he cried ina loud whisper, and was gliding from the room.

'Come here with that flagon, you! Page!' cried the doctor.Curdie came a few steps toward him with the flagon dangling fromhis hand, heedless of the gushes that fell noiseless on the thickcarpet.

'Are you aware, young man,' said the doctor, 'that it is not everywine can do His Majesty the benefit I intend he should derive frommy prescription?'

'Quite aware, sir, answered Curdie. 'The wine for His Majesty'suse is in the third cask from the corner.'

'Fly, then,' said the doctor, looking satisfied.

Curdie stopped outside the curtain and blew an audible breath - nomore; up came Lina noiseless as a shadow. He showed her theflagon.

'The cellar, Lina: go,' he said.

She galloped away on her soft feet, and Curdie had indeed to fly tokeep up with her. Not once did she make even a dubious turn. Fromthe king's gorgeous chamber to the cold cellar they shot. Curdiedashed the wine down the back stair, rinsed the flagon out as hehad seen the butler do, filled it from the cask of which he hadseen the butler drink, and hastened with it up again to the king'sroom.

The little doctor took it, poured out a full glass, smelt, but didnot taste it, and set it down. Then he leaned over the bed,shouted in the king's ear, blew upon his eyes, and pinched his arm:Curdie thought he saw him run something bright into it. At lastthe king half woke. The doctor seized the glass, raised his head,poured the wine down his throat, and let his head fall back on thepillow again. Tenderly wiping his beard, and bidding the princessgood night in paternal tones, he then took his leave. Curdie wouldgladly have driven his pick into his head, but that was not in hiscommission, and he let him go. The little round man looked verycarefully to his feet as he crossed the threshold.

'That attentive fellow of a page has removed the mat,' he said tohimself, as he walked along the corridor. 'I must remember him.'

CHAPTER 20Counterplotting

Curdie was already sufficiently enlightened as to how things weregoing, to see that he must have the princess of one mind with him,and they must work together. It was clear that among those aboutthe king there was a plot against him: for one thing, they hadagreed in a lie concerning himself; and it was plain also that thedoctor was working out a design against the health and reason ofHis Majesty, rendering the question of his life a matter of littlemoment. It was in itself sufficient to justify the worst fears,that the people outside the palace were ignorant of His Majesty'scondition: he believed those inside it also - the butler excepted- were ignorant of it as well. Doubtless His Majesty's councillorsdesired to alienate the hearts of his subjects from theirsovereign. Curdie's idea was that they intended to kill the king,marry the princess to one of themselves, and found a new dynasty;but whatever their purpose, there was treason in the palace of theworst sort: they were making and keeping the king incapable, inorder to effect that purpose- The first thing to be seen to,therefore, was that His Majesty should neither eat morsel nor drinkdrop of anything prepared for him in the palace. Could this havebeen managed without the princess, Curdie would have preferredleaving her in ignorance of the horrors from which he sought todeliver her. He feared also the danger of her knowledge betrayingitself to the evil eyes about her; but it must be risked and shehad always been a wise child.

Another thing was clear to him - that with such traitors no termsof honour were either binding or possible, and that, short oflying, he might use any means to foil them. And he could not doubtthat the old princess had sent him expressly to frustrate theirplans.

While he stood thinking thus with himself, the princess wasearnestly watching the king, with looks of childish love andwomanly tenderness that went to Curdie's heart. Now and then witha great fan of peacock feathers she would fan him very softly; nowand then, seeing a cloud begin to gather upon the sky of hissleeping face, she would climb upon the bed, and bending to his earwhisper into it, then draw back and watch again - generally to seethe cloud disperse. in his deepest slumber, the soul of the kinglay open to the voice of his child, and that voice had power eitherto change the aspect of his visions, or, which was better still, tobreathe hope into his heart, and courage to endure them.

Curdie came near, and softly called her.

'I can't leave Papa just yet,' she returned, in a low voice.

'I will wait,' said Curdie; 'but I want very much to saysomething.'

In a few minutes she came to him where he stood under the lamp.

'Well, Curdie, what is it?' she said.

'Princess,' he replied, 'I want to tell you that I have found whyyour grandmother sent me.'

'Come this way, then, she answered, 'where I can see the face of myking.'

Curdie placed a chair for her in the spot she chose, where shewould be near enough to mark any slightest change on her father'scountenance, yet where their low-voiced talk would not disturb him. There he sat down beside her and told her all the story - how hergrandmother had sent her good pigeon for him, and how she hadinstructed him, and sent him there without telling him what he hadto do. Then he told her what he had discovered of the state ofthings generally in Gwyntystorm, and especially what he had heardand seen in the palace that night.

'Things are in a bad state enough,' he said in conclusion - 'lyingand selfishness and inhospitality and dishonesty everywhere; and tocrown all, they speak with disrespect of the good king, and not aman knows he is ill.'

'You frighten me dreadfully,' said Irene, trembling.

'You must be brave for your king's sake,' said Curdie.

'Indeed I will,' she replied, and turned a long loving look uponthe beautiful face of her father. 'But what is to be done? Andhow am I to believe such horrible things of Dr Kelman?'

'my dear Princess,' replied Curdie, 'you know nothing of him buthis face and his tongue, and they are both false. Either you mustbeware of him, or you must doubt your grandmother and me; for Itell you, by the gift she gave me of testing hands, that this manis a snake. That round body he shows is but the case of a serpent. Perhaps the creature lies there, as in its nest, coiled round andround inside.'

'Horrible!' said Irene.

'Horrible indeed; but we must not try to get rid of horrible thingsby refusing to look at them, and saying they are not there. Is notyour beautiful father sleeping better since he had the wine?'

'Yes.'

'Does he always sleep better after having it?'

She reflected an instant.

'No; always worse - till tonight,' she answered.

'Then remember that was the wine I got him - not what the butlerdrew. Nothing that passes through any hand in the house exceptyours or mine must henceforth, till he is well, reach His Majesty'slips.'

'But how, dear Curdie?' said the princess, almost crying.

'That we must contrive,' answered Curdie. 'I know how to take careof the wine; but for his food - now we must think.''He takes hardly any,' said the princess, with a pathetic shake ofher little head which Curdie had almost learned to look for.

'The more need,' he replied, 'there should be no poison in it.' Irene shuddered. 'As soon as he has honest food he will begin togrow better. And you must be just as careful with yourself,Princess,' Curdie went on, 'for you don't know when they may beginto poison you, too.'

'There's no fear of me; don't talk about me,' said Irene. 'Thegood food! How are we to get it, Curdie? That is the wholequestion.'

'I am thinking hard,' answered Curdie. 'The good food? Let me see- let me see! Such servants as I saw below are sure to have thebest of everything for themselves: I will go an see what I can findon their table.'

'The chancellor sleeps in the house, and he and the master of theking's horse always have their supper together in a room off thegreat hall, to the right as you go down the stairs,' said Irene. 'I would go with you, but I dare not leave my father. Alas! Hescarcely ever takes more than a mouthful. I can't think how helives! And the very thing he would like, and often asks for - abit of bread - I can hardly ever get for him: Dr Kelman hasforbidden it, and says it is nothing less than poison to him.'

'Bread at least he shall have,' said Curdie; 'and that, with thehonest wine, will do as well as anything, I do believe. I will goat once and look for some. But I want you to see Lina first, andknow her, lest, coming upon her by accident at any time, you shouldbe frightened.'

'I should like much to see her,' said the princess.

Warning her not to be startled by her ugliness, he went to the doorand called her.

She entered, creeping with downcast head, and dragging her tailover the floor behind her. Curdie watched the princess as thefrightful creature came nearer and nearer. One shudder went fromhead to foot, and next instant she stepped to meet her. Linadropped flat on the floor, and covered her face with her two bigpaws. It went to the heart of the princess: in a moment she was onher knees beside her, stroking her ugly head, and patting her allover.

'Good dog! Dear ugly dog!' she said.

Lina whimpered.

'I believe,' said Curdie, 'from what your grandmother told me, thatLina is a woman, and that she was naughty, but is now growinggood.'Lina had lifted her head while Irene was caressing her; now shedropped it again between her paws; but the princess took it in herhands, and kissed the forehead betwixt the gold-green eyes.

'Shall I take her with me or leave her?' asked Curdie.

'Leave her, poor dear,' said Irene, and Curdie, knowing the waynow, went without her.

He took his way first to the room the princess had spoken of, andthere also were the remains of supper; but neither there nor in thekitchen could he find a scrap of plain wholesome-looking bread. Sohe returned and told her that as soon as it was light he would gointo the city for some, and asked her for a handkerchief to tie itin. If he could not bring it himself, he would send it by Lina,who could keep out of sight better than he, and as soon as all wasquiet at night he would come to her again. He also asked her totell the king that he was in the house. His hope lay in the factthat bakers everywhere go to work early. But it was yet much tooearly. So he persuaded the princess to lie down, promising to callher if the king should stir.

CHAPTER 21The Loaf

His Majesty slept very quietly. The dawn had grown almost day, andstill Curdie lingered, unwilling to disturb the princess.

At last, however, he called her, and she was in the room in amoment. She had slept, she said, and felt quite fresh. Delightedto find her father still asleep, and so peacefully, she pushed herchair close to the bed, and sat down with her hands in her lap.

Curdie got his mattock from where he had hidden it behind a greatmirror, and went to the cellar, followed by Lina. They took somebreakfast with them as they passed through the hall, and as soon asthey had eaten it went out the back way.

At the mouth of the passage Curdie seized the rope, drew himselfup, pushed away the shutter, and entered the dungeon. Then heswung the end of the rope to Lina, and she caught it in her teeth. When her master said, 'Now, Lina!' she gave a great spring, and heran away with the end of the rope as fast as ever he could. Andsuch a spring had she made, that by the time he had to bear herweight she was within a few feet of the hole. The instant she gota paw through, she was all through.

Apparently their enemies were waiting till hunger should have cowedthem, for there was no sign of any attempt having been made to openthe door. A blow or two of Curdie's mattock drove the shatteredlock clean from it, and telling Lina to wait there till he cameback, and let no one in, he walked out into the silent street, anddrew the door to behind them. He could hardly believe it was notyet a whole day since he had been thrown in there with his handstied at his back.

Down the town he went, walking in the middle of the street, that,if any one saw him, he might see he was not afraid, and hesitate torouse an attack on him. As to the dogs, ever since the death oftheir two companions, a shadow that looked like a mattock wasenough to make them scamper. As soon as he reached the archway ofthe city gate he turned to reconnoitre the baker's shop, andperceiving no sign of movement, waited there watching for the